Full Speed Ahead
by Ciara2531
Summary: AU/AH. For Daisy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is basically a one shot broken up into three pieces. I'll post tomorrow and Monday to wrap it all up. The characters aren't mine and I've taken creative license with a number of things; don't hold it against me. **

**For Daisy.**

* * *

Elena glanced around the reception area of the offices that she'd been directed to. To say that it was a mad house would be an understatement. People were rushing in all directions, chattering in different languages and it was all Elena could do not to go running in the other direction. This was not the kind of atmosphere she thrived in.

Or at least, it wasn't anymore.

Sucking in a deep breath, Elena forced some steel into her spine. She'd gotten lucky. Her former agent had taken pity on her and set up this introduction to Caroline Forbes, one of the top publicists in Europe. Unless she wanted to end up on the streets or back in rehab or both, Elena needed to make this work.

She walked towards the front desk, hoping she projected more confidence than she was feeling and informed the receptionist that she had an appointment scheduled with Ms. Forbes. The receptionist gave her a slightly skeptical look but took her name and pushed a series of buttons on her intercom.

Elena forced herself to keep her expression neutral. She knew that in a place like this her worn jeans, cotton shirt and combat boots would stick out like a sore thumb. The clothes were clean but there was no denying that they'd seen better days. _It's not the clothes, it's the attitude_, Elena reminded herself. Roberto Cavalli himself had told her that during the final fitting for one of her first runway shows in Milan. A shame he hadn't warned her about the other pitfalls of the fashion industry.

Sliding the mental door on memory lane shut, Elena forced herself to stay in the present. She needed a job – badly. If this didn't work out she was going to find herself staring at the one line she'd sworn she'd never cross again. She really didn't want to have that choice in front of her because as far as she'd come she wasn't sure she'd be able to resist the lure, the temptation.

"Elena Gilbert?"

Turning at the sound of her name, Elena locked eyes with a slim, dark skinned woman. She was immaculately made up, impeccably dressed and clearly impatient.

"Me," Elena said scratchily. She cleared her throat. "I'm Elena Gilbert."

She was subjected to another critical assessment before the woman gestured for Elena to follow her. They walked down a series of hallways and then through a set of double doors that opened out into a massive office.

Caroline Forbes was on the patio, speaking into a headset as she paced. She held up a hand to indicate that she'd be a few minutes.

The woman with Elena, who hadn't bothered to introduce herself, told Elena to sit while she waited and then she disappeared.

Elena let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as she sank down into one of the cream leather seats It felt amazing and Elena was tempted to close her eyes. It wasn't as if she'd been sleeping well lately, crammed as she had been into a 14-person dorm in one of Rome's shabbier hostels.

"Elena Gilbert," Caroline drawled. "Look at you."

Elena's eyes flew up and collided with Caroline's clear blue ones. The blond woman cocked her head to one side and studied Elena.

"This might actually work," she said.

"I don't know how much Kenzie told you," Elena began.

"She didn't have to tell me," Caroline said. "It's my job to know."

Elena frowned.

"I'm not sure I understand," she said slowly.

"Kenzie didn't set up this introduction as a favor to you," Caroline explained. "She did it as a favor to me. I wanted to meet you."

"Why?" Elena asked.

"Because I think you might be able to solve one of my problems and I know I can solve yours," Caroline said.

Knots started to form in Elena's stomach. She wasn't sure that she liked where this was going.

"Do you know who Damon Salvatore is?" Caroline asked her.

Elena blinked.

The name sounded familiar but it took her a moment to place it. A drug-riddled memory would do that to a person.

"He's a race car driver isn't he?" she finally offered.

"The best Formula One driver of his generation," Caroline agreed. "Until a few months ago, he was the circuit's Golden Boy. He could do no wrong."

"What happened a few months ago?" Elena asked.

"A couple of things," Caroline said. "A bad crash in Malaysia for one. The car was wrecked but Damon walked away without a scratch, at least physically. It fucked with his head though and he started getting reckless off the track."

Instinctively, Elena could relate. Reckless had been her middle name for a few years and she knew how the spiral could suck you in and suck you down until you crashed.

"And then?" Elena asked.

"Another crash," Caroline said quietly. "This time on the streets of London. And there were casualties."

Elena winced.

"A little girl," Caroline said. "She was eight. Her parents sued. Damon settled for a small fortune and Ferrari suspended him. He's used the time off to make quite a spectacle of himself in the tabloid press so despite my best efforts his image has taken a serious hit; serious enough to derail his entire career unless we do something."

"I don't see what any of this has to do with me," Elena said uncomfortably.

"It's simple," Caroline said brightly. "You're going to date Damon Salvatore."

"You're crazy," Elena said.

The words were out before she even thought about them. The idea was so outrageous that Elena couldn't believe Caroline was serious. Except, the expression on her face didn't indicate that she was joking.

"I could have gone for someone more obvious," Caroline allowed. "Someone all pure and virginal but let's face it. No one would ever believe that was Damon's type. But you're different. You have enough of a past to make you interesting but you're not an object of ridicule. If anything, people feel sorry for you."

She gave a small shrug.

"Or at least they will when they find out what your uncle did," she said.

"I don't want people to know about that," Elena protested.

"Don't worry," Caroline said. "We'll spin it so no one knows how bad it really was. We can't have people thinking you'd do anything for money."

Elena flinched.

Caroline reached a hand out and patted Elena's arm. Her expression was genuinely sympathetic but her words were brutal in their honesty.

"Look, I know this isn't what you expected or what you wanted from coming here," Caroline said. "But realistically, I can't hire you on here. You didn't finish high school never mind college. You have no qualifications and no experience."

Elena pressed her lips together. She couldn't deny that was Caroline said was true but that didn't make it any easier to hear.

"So unless you want to be working in the mail room for minimum wage," Caroline continued. "This is the best I can do for you. And frankly, considering that that we're talking hundreds of thousands of dollars for a fake relationship that'll be over in four to six months, I think it's a pretty good deal."

Elena considered that and came to a realization as she did so.

"You know what," she said, standing up. "I would rather work in the mail room because you're right about one thing. I won't do anything for money. My family might be gone and I might be broke but I fought too hard to claw my way out of hell, Ms. Forbes. My self respect might not be worth a lot of money but it's what I've got left and I'm keeping it."

Caroline sighed but there was a small smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

"I'll tell you what," Caroline said. "Meet Damon, just once, and if you still don't want any part of this, I'll put you to work in the mail room."

Elena narrowed her eyes.

"What difference will meeting him make?" Elena asked.

"Maybe none," Caroline said. "But I'm starting to think the two of you have something in common."

"And what would that be?" Elena asked.

"You could both use a friend," Caroline said.

* * *

Damon Salvatore groaned as sunlight pressed insistently against his eyelids. He peeled one eye open long enough to realize that he wasn't at home and that he had most definitely had too much to drink the night before.

It wasn't the first time and he doubted it was the last. Wincing, he forced himself to sit up and swing his legs to the floor. He gave himself a minute to adjust to the pounding in his head and then he pushed past it to get to his feet and scoop up his clothes.

The redhead in the bed behind him didn't stir and Damon was grateful. He despised awkward mornings after. Stumbling into the bathroom, he splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror.

What had started out as stubble was going to be a full beard any day now if he continued to avoid shaving. Rubbing his hands over his jaw, Damon took in the way his hair had grown out so that it brushed the tops of his shoulders and the fact that his eyes were rimmed in red.

_Starting to look like the monster you are_, he thought grimly.

Forcing his eyes away from the mirror, Damon got dressed, found his shoes and left the hotel suite without a backward glance. Stopping in the lobby to buy a pair of sunglasses, he gestured for the doorman to get him a cab.

He hadn't gotten behind the wheel since the accident in London. There were too many mangled emotions in his head at the mere thought of it. The cab ride back to his apartment on Via Mecenate wasn't a long one.

As soon as he got inside, Damon swallowed a couple of painkillers and made for the shower. He wanted the smell of skank and sex off his skin as soon as possible. When he was clean and dressed in jeans and a t shirt, he contemplated his next move.

He could have surrounded himself with hangers on in a heartbeat. All it would take was a couple of phone calls. A few of the drivers he used to hang out with were keeping their distance but for every one of them there were half a dozen who'd kill to breathe the same air as him.

He didn't know if the thought was supposed to comfort him but it didn't. Suddenly, escaping Rome seemed like the best idea in the world. All he had to do was pick a place. He was choosing between Fiji and somewhere in the Caribbean when his cell phone rang.

He glanced at the caller i.d. and made a face when he saw that it was his publicist, Caroline Forbes. He was beyond tempted to ignore her call but experience served him well. If Caroline felt ignored, she'd turn up on his doorstep. And if she found him gone when she got here, she'd track him down and turn up wherever he happened to be.

"What?" he barked into the phone.

"There's someone I want you to meet," Caroline said, not the least bit fazed by his attitude. "You might be willing to piss your career and your image away but I'm not. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way but either way it will be _my _way."

"I should fire you," Damon muttered.

"You can fire me as your publicist," Caroline agreed. "But you can't fire me as your sister in law."

Damon let out a low curse, not caring that Caroline could hear him.

"Fine," he said. "Where and when?"

"This afternoon," Caroline said. "Make it a lunch date. I'll even let you pick the place."

"Antico Arco at 1," Damon said.

"I'll have Bonnie make the reservation," Caroline said.

She hung up before Damon could change his mind or argue further and glanced at her watch. It was 10:30. They'd be cutting it close but she'd done more with less in her time.

"Time to get this show on the road," she said to Elena.

The younger woman looked at her nervously.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Caroline said. "You might even have fun."

"I doubt that," Elena said.

She knew what came next. Before they served her up to Damon Salvatore on a platter, there were going to be a few adjustments, namely to her hair and wardrobe. To most people, it wouldn't be a big deal. It would, as Caroline said, be a lot of fun.

But to Elena it was something a lot darker. It was a reminder of that time in her life when she'd been far too young to deal with the pressure of an international fashion career. Too young to keep track of her own voice and her own identity when choices were constantly being made for her and when she was constantly forced to be something else for someone else.

The only way she'd found to assert her own autonomy had been with the parties and the drugs and the alcohol. They were bad choices but they were the ones she'd made for herself. There was no one else to blame for where they'd landed her.

Elena hesitated on the doorstep to the salon that Caroline had driven them over to.

"Enzo's the best," Caroline said. "You're in great hands."

_Hardly the problem_, Elena thought to herself as she let herself be guided inside. The salon was no different than the many other similar establishments that Elena had frequented in the past; the staff was efficient and in no time at all, Elena's hair had been washed and styled. Her hands and feet had been manicured and pedicured respectively and her make up was applied with all the careful precision required to make it look natural.

Elena was slightly surprised when Caroline didn't ask her to change clothes.

"Same shabby chic clothes with different hair and make up," Caroline said. "And the emphasis goes from shabby to chic. Besides, Damon doesn't like being lied to. This will go better if he can get a sense of who you are."

"So long as you remember I haven't fully committed to this," Elena said.

"We'll see," Caroline said.

The same chauffeured car that had brought them to the salon drove them to the restaurant. Their table was ready but Damon was nowhere in sight.

After taking their drink order, the waiter brought over a basket of freshly baked breads with olive oil and balsamic for dipping. Elena picked up a piece of focaccia, more for something to do than because she was hungry.

She'd just swallowed a bite when Caroline nodded towards the entrance.

"There he is," she said.

She shook her head.

"Looks like a god damn yeti," she mumbled.

Damon strode over to them, his movements stiff and jerky as if he'd rather be anywhere but there. He gave Caroline an obligatory kiss on the cheek and peered at Elena over his sunglasses.

"Damon, I'd like you to meet Elena Gilbert," Caroline said. "Elena, this is Damon."

"Hello," Elena said politely.

Damon looked back and forth between her and Caroline.

"No," he said decisively. "Whatever this is, the answer is no."

He started to leave but Caroline grabbed his arm and dug her fingernails in.

Damon hissed.

"Sit down," Caroline said firmly.

She didn't let go of Damon's arm until he was sitting down opposite Elena.

"Now then," Caroline said, gathering her things. "Damon, Elena needs your help and you need hers. I suggest that the two of you use lunch as an opportunity to get to know each other. We can meet back at my office around 4 to discuss the details."

She was gone before either Elena or Damon could voice a protest.

"Is she always like that?" Elena finally asked.

"Annoying isn't it?" Damon said.

"Mmm," Elena murmured. "Look what she said about me needing your help. It's not really true."

"That's fine," Damon said. "I don't need your help either. Caroline gets odd ideas."

"Oh," Elena said. "Okay then."

"Okay then," Damon repeated mockingly. "Are you even legal?"

"I'm eighteen," Elena said.

"Well that's something, I suppose," he said.

He took a piece of bread from the basket and demolished it in two bites.

"So Elena Gilbert," he said, offering her a wolfish grin. "What do you say we get out of here, go back to my apartment and fuck for the rest of the afternoon?"


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

"I can't figure you out," Damon announced.

They'd just left a private art opening that had been public enough to have the paparazzi swarming outside. Caroline had called it a soft run before they made their first unofficial public appearance at a tennis match the next day.

"What do you mean?" Elena asked.

She spoke calmly, almost emotionlessly and it was starting to drive Damon nuts. Elena had to be one of the most unflappable people he'd ever met. She seemed to take everything in her stride. When he'd propositioned her at their first meeting, she'd barely batted an eyelash. The cool way she'd informed him that she'd rather eat lunch told him that she wasn't impressed with him _and_ that he was far from the first man to suggest such a thing. Which, considering the fact that she was extremely beautiful wasn't surprising.

But her lack of reaction and the cynicism it implied were. And that was what Damon couldn't figure out. She was eighteen. He'd been an open book at eighteen. Elena was anything but and Damon wanted to know why.

So far Elena didn't appear to be interested in appeasing his curiosity.

"I mean that you're obviously not impressed by my fame," Damon said. "You're not trying to seduce me. In fact, I don't even think you like me very much. So why are you doing this? And don't say the money because that's not all it is."

"You sound very sure of that," Elena replied.

"I am," Damon said.

"Maybe you're wrong," Elena offered.

"And maybe you're deflecting," Damon said.

He reached across the seat and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and then he forced her to look at him instead of out the window.

"What happened to you?" he demanded.

"It's not really any of your business, is it?" Elena said, reaching up to pry his fingers away from her face.

"Humor me," Damon said.

"Why?" Elena asked.

"What do you mean why?" Damon said.

"I mean why do you care?" Elena said. "You don't know me. We're not in a real relationship. This whole thing is about saving your career. My motivations shouldn't matter."

"Well I've decided they do," Damon said. "And maybe I want to know you. Did you think of that?"

Elena arched an eyebrow.

"I thought you wanted to fuck me," she said.

"One doesn't preclude the other," Damon pointed out.

"It usually does with guys like you," Elena said.

"You know a lot of guys like me?" Damon asked.

"Not anymore," Elena said cryptically. "I'd like to keep it that way."

"It's going to be a long six months if you refuse to talk to me," Damon said. "There's only so much small talk I can stomach."

Elena waited until she could feel Damon's gaze move away from her face before she dared to dart a glance at him. He'd shaved since the day they'd first meet, a little over a week ago now, and it made all the difference. His jaw was strong and square and the perfect frame for his sculpted lips.

He was definitely a good-looking man and those eyes of his could easily hypnotize anyone bold enough to stare into them for too long. Elena had gone out of her way to avoid eye contact wherever possible but it wasn't easy. Neither was keeping her guard up.

There was something about Damon that was trying to suck her in. It was more than his charm and his looks. It was something more…twisted. It was dark and emotional and it had pushed her past the tipping point and into agreeing to this charade. But it also made her wary. She had a bad track record when it came to resisting the things that were bad for her and right now Damon was an unknown. Until she was more sure of herself or of him – whichever came first – she was going to be very careful about how much she revealed.

"I can hear you thinking," Damon muttered.

He was still staring out the window and Elena turned her head to face him.

"Do you have nightmares?" she asked.

Damon looked over sharply, his blue eyes glacial as they fixed on her.

"I don't mean the kind that wake you up when you're sleeping," Elena said. "I mean the kind that are always with you whether you're awake or not. The kind that ask questions and influence everything you do. The kind you'd do anything to get away from."

"You wouldn't have asked if you didn't already know the answer," Damon said roughly.

Elena gave a small nod as the car they were in pulled to a stop in front of the apartment that Caroline's company was lending her.

"I'll tell you mine when you're ready to tell me yours," she said quietly.

The driver opened the car door for her and Elena slid out. She didn't give Damon a second glance as she disappeared into the building and made her way up the stairs.

She was exhausted, not physically so much as mentally. The one disadvantage to having a roof over her head and knowing that six months from now she'd be on her feet financially was that all the adrenaline she'd been channeling into just surviving was fading. Now, she didn't have any excuse not to face the events of the last six months.

Her parents and brother had been killed in a car accident while Elena was still in rehab. The grief she'd felt had fed into the spiral of already overwhelming emotions that she was going through and had made getting sober an even more painstaking process than it already was.

She wondered now if her emotional and mental instability was what had made it so easy for her uncle John to disappear with the majority of her inheritance. He hadn't been able to touch her considerable trust fund but Elena didn't have access to it either. The original provisions stipulated that she would gain access on her 30th birthday. When Elena had been admitted into rehab, her parents had added other conditions, namely sobriety for a period of at least five years. Which meant that when she'd gotten out of rehab she'd found herself with a little less than 400 euros in her bank account, no where to live and no one who gave a damn.

Going back to modeling would have been the easy solution but Elena resisted it. She didn't want to fall into the same traps as she had before. She wanted a life that was the complete opposite of the one she'd been living for the last three years.

The next six months with Damon were her ticket to that life and if she felt a little bit guilty, as if she was selling out or taking the easy road, well, she just had to remind herself that it was worth it. In six months she'd be free to go someplace where no one knew her, where she could finish school, make friends. Maybe even find a decent guy who wanted more than just her body or a good time.

Tossing her shoes into the corner, Elena pulled open the balcony doors and stepped outside. It was relatively warm and the view of the city was sublime. Elena stared out at it and tried to keep in mind that just because she was alone now didn't mean she'd be alone forever.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She was just about to head inside when her cell phone beeped with a text message.

From Damon.

_Sweet dreams Elena._

* * *

Damon waited impatiently for Elena outside of her apartment. He was leaning against the car that would take them to the Foro Italico. In the roughly 12 hours since they'd parted company Damon had paced, he'd drunk half a bottle of scotch, he'd watched an hour of last weekend's Juventus v Inter Milan match and he'd surfed the internet, trolling almost in spite of himself for the hateful comments floating around about him and the role he'd played in the death of Lara Olivia Kyle.

He'd killed that little girl and walked away without a scratch.

Just like he'd walked away with out a scratch from the crash in Malaysia.

But he shouldn't have.

The wreck on the track should have killed him and if it had, Lara Olivia would still be alive. She'd be having pretend tea parties and coloring unicorns – two of her favorite pastimes or so her mother had told Damon when she broke down in one of the settlement meetings. There was no logical reason for her to be gone and him to still be here.

But he was and it haunted him.

He knew that people close to him thought he was drowning his sorrow in booze and women, trying to numb the pain, do away with the demons. Really though, those things were just a way to pass the time. The truth was that he relished the pain, dove into the darkness and embraced it. The universe had seen fit to spare him but he wasn't going to spare himself.

"Hi."

Elena's softly spoken greeting broke into Damon's thoughts and he blinked her into focus. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and she wore a black tank top with white capri pants. It was simple, classic and she made it look like the epitome of haute couture.

"Good morning," Damon said.

Elena gave him a wry smile.

"You don't look as if it's a good morning," she pointed out.

"No?" Damon asked blandly. "How do I look?"

Elena studied him more carefully before she spoke. He was dressed just as casually as she was in jeans that clung in all the right places and a navy blue v neck shirt. He hadn't shaved this morning so there was a dark shadow of stubble on his cheeks that only served to make the blue of his eyes more brilliant.

On the surface of it, he looked entirely well put together. But Elena knew better than most how deceptive the surface of anything could be. How many hours had she spent in front of a camera detaching her facial expressions from her thoughts?

"Wrecked," Elena finally said. "You look wrecked."

Damon gave her a look that bordered on disbelieving and then he turned to open the car door for her.

"We don't want to be late," he said sardonically.

Elena gave a tiny shrug and climbed into the backseat. Damon climbed in after her but he didn't keep the same physical distance from her as he had last night on the way back from the art opening. Elena glanced at him in surprise.

"Might as well get used to it," Damon said. "Or had you forgotten that we're supposed to be madly in love?"

"You're overstating things, aren't you?" Elena said.

When Caroline had briefed them both she'd clearly presented the image they were supposed to project was one of a new couple totally smitten, yes, but also still getting to know each other. Damon was plainly trying to get under her skin but that was nothing new.

"This is a game to you, isn't it?" Elena asked.

It would explain his attitude the day they'd met and maybe even his motivations for agreeing to this scenario when he didn't really seem to care all that much about getting his career back on track.

"No," Damon said slowly.

"Then what?" Elena asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Damon said, and it was true. He'd had no intention of going along with Caroline's plan until Elena had agreed to it. Something about her resonated in him but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"Figures," Elena said.

Damon smirked at her.

"For someone so reluctant to share her own motives," Damon drawled. "You're awfully curious about mine. One of us is going to have to break the deadlock eventually."

"Are you volunteering?" Elena retorted.

"Hardly," Damon said.

"Like I said," Elena repeated. "Figures."

"Tell you what," Damon said. "How about a time out?"

Elena arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"We've both got issues," Damon said. "But they aren't going anywhere. I propose we set them aside for today and attempt to actually have a good time."

"What's the catch?" Elena asked.

"Who says there is one?" Damon retorted.

Elena was about to snap right back at him but there was a gleam of sincerity in his eyes that stopped her. Maybe Caroline was right, Elena mused. Maybe Damon did need a friend. More, maybe he actually _wanted_ one.

The question was whether or not the two of them could be friends. Elena doubted it – the undercurrents between them were too prickly. But she supposed it was worth a shot, for the next few hours at least.

"Okay," Elena said.

"Okay," Damon repeated.

He flashed her a grin and Elena had to make a conscious effort not to gasp out loud. It was the first time she'd seen anything approaching a genuine smile on his face and it made all the difference. Not only did it up his sex appeal by a factor of a million, but it gave Elena a glimpse into the man he must have been before the accidents.

Elena felt a pang of grief in her chest and for once it wasn't for her family. It wasn't even for the little girl who'd died or the parents that had lost their child. It was for Damon. Elena was willing to bet that not many people considered what the ordeal had been like for him. Granted, he hadn't done much to inspire sympathy with all the antics that Caroline had described to her.

But then, that was what made it so tragic.

They pulled up to their destination a few minutes later and Damon took Elena's hand in his as they wound their way through the crowds to their seats on center court. She could have pulled her hand away at anytime but she found an odd kind of comfort in the tactile connection.

The match between David Ferrer and Andy Murray had been underway for almost 40 minutes before the cameras picked up on Damon's presence. A scattering of applause but mostly a furious hiss of boos accompanied the flashing of his face on the big screens on either side of the stadium.

Damon's expression remained stoic but Elena could see the clench in his jaw and on instinct she reached up and turned his face towards her own. She paused for a split second, then went ahead and kissed him.

It was pretty chaste as far as kisses go; just a gentle press of her lips against his mouth. Damon responded, his lips moving almost tentatively over hers, but he didn't take advantage. Elena would admit that she was a little surprised that he didn't press for more but also relieved. He'd accepted the gesture for what it was meant to be and nothing more.

Still, her lips tingled long after Damon had pulled away and she couldn't help wondering if she'd opened Pandora's box.

Damon didn't seem to be paying any more attention to the match than she was so Elena was half expecting it when he suggested they leave at the next change of ends.

She _wasn't_ expecting him to order their driver to take them to the airport.

"You do know kidnapping is illegal?" Elena asked him.

"We're taking a time out, right?" Damon asked.

"Yes," Elena replied slowly. "But what…"

"Do you trust me?" Damon interrupted.

Elena's brows knit together in a frown.

"I haven't decided," Elena said.

Damon grinned.

"Yeah, you have," he said.

Elena huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes but she didn't disagree.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, a taxi was dropping them on Via Martelli in Florence. Damon led the way into a palazzo and up to a large penthouse.

"This place is yours?" Elena asked.

Damon nodded.

"I have a place in Rome because it's practical," he said. "But Firenze is home."

Elena stuck her hands in her pockets and eyeballed the room around her. It was luxurious, there was no doubt about that but it wasn't ostentatious or pretentious. Elena's gaze settled on Damon who was leaning against a wall and watching her from under lowered lids.

"You go to a lot of trouble to hide who you really are," Elena finally said.

Damon's lips quirked upwards.

"Don't we all?" he replied.

He walked towards the kitchen and Elena heard the sounds of the fridge being opened. Moments later Damon came back with two beers, one of which he extended to her.

Elena's mouth tightened almost imperceptibly.

"I don't drink," she said flatly.

"At all?" Damon asked. "Ever?"

Elena shook her head.

"Not anymore," she said.

She turned away and went out onto the balcony. The view of the Duomo was magnificent. She didn't turn around when she felt Damon join her but she did look over out of the corner of her eye when he placed a can of San Pellegrino Aranciata on the balustrade next to her.

"Aren't you going to ask?" Elena questioned when it didn't seem like he was going to break the silence.

"Nope," Damon said.

"Why not?" Elena asked.

It wasn't that she wanted to tell him her whole fucked up history. Even if she had wanted to, she didn't think she was _ready_ to. But that didn't mean that she didn't expect him to be curious.

"Because I don't drive," Damon said.

It shouldn't have been the perfect answer but somehow, it was.


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

"Caroline's going to kill us," Elena said mildly.

Damon shrugged.

"She'll get over it," he said.

He turned away from the railing to stare at Elena. She was stretched out on one of the deck chairs, watching as their chartered yacht floated away from the coast of Cagliari. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and fluttering gently in the breeze.

She looked beautiful but more than that, she looked relaxed. Ever since that night in Florence, almost three weeks ago, things had shifted between them. There was less tension and more complicity. They hadn't exactly poured their hearts out to each other but they'd recognized and responded to each other's pain even if they didn't explicitly say so.

That was the very reason that Damon had organized this cruise. Caroline had planned for them to go to Milan for Fashion Week, not realizing that Elena would rather have walked barefoot over hot coals. Damon, on seeing Elena's reaction to the prospect, had promptly started planning their escape.

"Thank you," Elena said quietly, turning her doe eyes on Damon.

"No need for thanks," Damon said.

"Maybe not," Elena said standing up and walking over to him. "But still."

She bit her bottom lip and Damon resisted the urge to reach up and pry it loose. He'd gotten used to touching her when they were in public. There had even been a few more kisses. But when they were alone, he made the extra effort to restrain himself. He was attracted to her – had been from the first – and he was fairly certain she was equally attracted. But he didn't want to push her so she was going to have to make the first move.

"I want…a different life," Elena admitted, drawing Damon out of his thoughts. "Going to Fashion Week would have been like…diving right back into every mistake I ever made."

Damon leaned his elbow on the railing and angled his body a little closer to hers.

"You don't have to tell me," he said softly.

"I know," Elena said, giving him a small smile. "That's why I am."

Damon smiled back and his hand settled over hers before he'd even fully thought about it. Elena turned her palm up and threaded her fingers through his. The gesture was simple but it made Damon's heart clench in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant or even what he was feeling. All he knew was that touching her, even when it was simple and innocent, affected him like nothing else he'd ever experienced.

"As much as I hate to say it," Elena began. "I'm a walking, talking cliché. A photographer discovered me at a town festival in Mystic Falls just before I turned 15. He had a cousin that worked in Milan, showed him my picture. The next thing I know there are agents knocking down the door and fighting over me."

"I can relate," Damon said.

Elena nodded and continued.

"It seemed like it would be fun, be an adventure, you know?" she said. "I'd lived in this tiny Virginia town all my life and I wanted to see what else was out there. I fought tooth and nail with my parents and the only reason they agreed was because I promised to finish high school by correspondence and put my career on hold when I turned 18 to go to college."

"The best laid plans…" Damon murmured.

"I had no idea what I was getting into," Elena said. "It's not like I was doing catalogs for JC Penny or the GAP. It was haute couture; runway shows for the biggest fashion houses, high profile print campaigns. I was a kid living an adult life, surrounded by adults who didn't care about _me_, only what I could sell for them. Turns out I couldn't handle the pressure so I let drugs and alcohol handle it for me."

"Why weren't your parents there for you?" Damon questioned.

Elena blinked at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It doesn't sound like they came to Europe with you," Damon began.

"No, they stayed in Mystic Falls," Elena said. "My younger brother was only 12. They didn't want to uproot him as well."

"So they let you move half a world away," Damon said flatly. "With no support system other than the one provided by the people exploiting you?"

"You make it sound sordid," Elena said.

Damon arched an eyebrow.

"I was convinced that I could handle it," Elena said. "I wanted to be independent. And I can see how you might look at modeling as exploitation. But it's something that I chose and I was paid well for it."

"You were 15, Elena," Damon said. "Not exactly old enough or wise enough to judge your own capacity for independence. They should have done more to protect you. That's all I'm saying."

Elena was quiet for a few moments. She'd never really thought about how her parents had handled her career. She'd been focused on getting them to let her do what she wanted, which at the time, was pursue modeling. They'd supported what she thought her dream was and they'd protected her financially – maybe a little too well.

But it had never occurred to her to wonder how things might have been different if they been in closer physical proximity when she started to spiral. Would they have been able to stop her or would they have made things worse?

"It is what it is," she finally said. "For better or worse, I wouldn't be who I am if things had been different."

"Well, I like who you are," Damon said softly. "So there's that. But I'm sorry that you had to suffer so much."

"We all have our crosses to bear," Elena said.

"We do," Damon agreed.

He rubbed his thumb across her wrist and Elena felt a tremor shoot up her arm and spread sparks through out her body. Damon's effect on her body wasn't exactly new after three weeks of convincing the world that they were falling in love but it was getting harder and harder to ignore when they were alone.

Part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and race full speed ahead into his arms and into his bed. She was pretty sure he'd be a spectacular lover and god knew there was already more of an emotional connection between them than she'd had with any of her previous lovers.

But that emotional connection was the flip side of the coin. Somewhere along the way, with the trust she'd started to develop in him, had come the realization that she wanted to keep Damon in her life. They weren't friends exactly but the time they'd spent together had done more to soothe her wounds than drugs or therapy combined. She didn't want to lose that.

"What happened to the money?" Damon asked.

"All the money I made modeling, my parents put into a trust fund for me," Elena said. "Problem is I can't access it until I'm 30 and only if I've been sober five years or more."

"How much progress have you made on those five years?" Damon asked.

"Seven months, one week and three days," Elena said.

"Good for you," Damon said.

"Thanks," Elena said.

"Does it get easier?" Damon asked.

"I'll let you know," Elena said.

Damon looked down at her, fully prepared to try and open up to her the way she had to him. But he started drowning in her eyes and what he ended up saying was a lot more raw than he'd anticipated.

"I don't know what to do with you," he said, so quietly that Elena almost didn't hear him. "Part of me wants to do whatever it takes to make sure you don't get hurt again. Another part still wants to fuck you senseless, and _another_ part wants more than either of those two things combined."

He shook his head.

"It's impossible," he said.

"Why?" Elena asked simply.

Damon gave her a look and let go of her hand in order to lift his to her cheek.

"I've got a decade on you," he said. "And you just got done saying that you want a different life. You can't build that over night. You need time and I'm really not sure that getting any more involved with me than you are right now, is going to help that."

Elena didn't rush her response, largely because she was struggling to come to a decision of her own. Give in to temptation or resist? In the end the choice was a lot simpler than she thought it would be.

"At this point, age is just a number," she finally said. "I may have been a kid when I got thrown into that world but I'm not one anymore. I meant what I said about wanting a different life."

She took a step closer to him, invading his personal space and placing her palm on his chest, just over his heart.

"But I want you to be a part of it," Elena said.

"What exactly are you saying right now?" Damon asked.

His voice sounded shaky to his own ears but he had the sudden certainty that everything would be different when this conversation ended.

"I'm saying that this fake romance is something else now," Elena said. "Something real and I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

Damon let out a breath, realized that his hand was shaking and shoved it into his hair in the hopes that Elena wouldn't notice. The effort was entirely wasted because with her hand pressed against his chest, he had no doubt that she could feel the furious pounding of his heart.

"I've taken more risks with my life than I can count," Damon said. "But I'm never the one who gets hurt. It's always the people around me who suffer and I don't want that for you."

Elena looked into his eyes for a moment and then she did the only thing that made sense.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as if the world was about to end.

* * *

Damon groaned into Elena's mouth and felt whatever resistance he might have mustered, crumble under the pressure of her lips on his. He lifted his hands to frame her face and he kissed her back with none of the restraint that he'd exercised during their previous kisses. What had been chaste in the past became carnal in the present, caution was replaced by passion and uncertainty was chased away by a desire so deep that Damon was convinced he would drown in it.

He didn't care.

Elena didn't seem to either. She matched him kiss for kiss, her tongue dueling frantically with his as her hands drifted across his shoulders, down over his chest and around his waist to settle on his ass. She used her grip to pull him closer, arching towards him at the same time and making it clear exactly what she wanted.

Placing his hands on her hips, Damon lifted her off the ground. Elena immediately wrapped her arms and legs around him and kissed him harder still. Lust was like a gnawing ache low in her stomach, a void that needed to be filled and now that she'd decided to go through with it, Elena was getting impatient.

Damon carried them to the master stateroom with barely a stumble. An impressive feat considering that his mouth didn't leave hers for more than seconds at a time. He set her down on the first stable surface he found which happened to be an antique writing desk and plunged his fingers into her hair, tugging on the mahogany strands to tilt her head to one side. As soon as her neck was exposed, Damon set about devouring it. He licked and nibbled and sucked, eliciting breathless moans from Elena at every turn.

She squirmed on the desk, her heels digging into his butt so she could rock against him the way she wanted to, creating the friction she craved. Her fingers reached for the hem of his shirt so she could pull it off over his head. Not entirely satisfied with that, she attacked his pants next, dispatching the button and zip so that she could reach her hand inside and wrap it around his rampant erection.

Damon hissed and bit a soft spot just above her collarbone. In the next second, Elena felt the wet heat of his tongue soothing the sting. His breathing was labored and hot against her skin and Elena felt a surge of sensual power at the realization that she was the one turning him inside out.

Damon let his forehead fall against her shoulder as he struggled to keep control. Her hands were small but her strokes were sure and Damon didn't doubt that she'd wring an orgasm from him in minutes if he let her keep going.

He didn't.

He pinned her hands to the table and locked his eyes on hers.

"We need to slow down," he rasped.

"No, we don't," Elena protested. She tried to slither out of his hold but Damon's grip was implacable.

"Elena," he muttered helplessly.

Elena stopped struggling and looked at him. He looked like a man on the edge and she found it a lot sexier than she would have imagined. She wasn't the least bit frightened at the idea of him losing control because she trusted him not to hurt her. Apparently more than he trusted himself.

"I'm not made of glass," Elena said. "You're not going to break me."

She leaned forward and sucked briefly on his bottom lip. Damon's eyes slid shut but he didn't move and he didn't let go of her hands.

"You said before that you wanted to fuck me senseless," Elena said. "Were you lying?"

"Definitely not," Damon said.

"So show me," Elena said.

"Another time out," Damon said.

"Exactly," Elena agreed.

Damon let the last of his willpower fall away and he gave Elena exactly what she wanted and more. Pulling her off the desk, he stripped off all her clothes and took a minute to drink the sight of her naked body. She was exquisite and he started to tell her so but stopped himself in time, not wanting any potential compliment to serve as a trigger.

Instead, he let his lust do the talking. Tossing her down on the bed, he got rid of the rest of his own clothes. His hands on her knees pushed her legs apart and Damon settled between them face first. The second his tongue slid through her folds and made contact with her clit, Elena started thrashing under him. Bracing her legs on either of his arms, he pressed his palms against her stomach to hold her down and still.

The smell and taste of her arousal only served to fuel his own; under other circumstance he might have lingered for hours but the need to feel her silken walls molding to the length of his cock left his patience in tatters.

Pulling back, Damon turned Elena onto her stomach.

"On all fours," he instructed.

A mewling sound escaped Elena as she scrambled to comply, her fingers twisting in the bedspread underneath her. She glanced over her shoulder at Damon and licked her lips unconsciously. Damon growled low in the back of his throat and then he slammed deep inside her without further warning.

She cried out but not in pain and pushed back against him. Damon gripped her hips and let his head fall back. Whatever pleasure he'd known in life before paled in comparison to being lost inside her. The pace he set was punishing but Elena was with him thrust for thrust, her moans building in urgency and pitch as he sent them both barreling towards release.

Elena felt Damon smooth one hand over her back, push her hair to one side and grasp her shoulder, the better to pull her back into his increasingly frantic strokes. Waves of sensation poured over her and built to the most excruciatingly intense climax that Elena had ever experienced. The tide of her release swept Damon away with it and Elena could feel the hot spurts of his orgasm as he shuddered inside her.

Her arms gave out from under her and Damon collapsed on top of her briefly before he rolled over onto his back. Elena turned her head and watched with lazy eyes moments later as he got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. He was back in minutes with a warm washcloth that he used to help her clean up.

Neither of them said anything and Elena was fine with the silence. It fit and when Damon pulled back the covers on the bed, Elena didn't hesitate to slide under them and curl into his side. She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, it was clearly dark outside and Damon had turned one of the bedside lamps on and set it to dim.

She looked up and saw that Damon was watching her with an inscrutable look on his face. If not for the fact that his arm was still wrapped around her and he was rubbing his knuckles back and forth over her shoulder, she might of wondered if he had regrets about what they'd done.

"I shouldn't have been driving that night," Damon said.

"Were you drunk?" Elena asked.

Damon shook his head no.

"After Malaysia, I kept reliving the whole race," Damon said. "Second guessing every decision, every choice, wondering what I could have or should have done different. It wasn't until later we found out that the problem was mechanical but by that time I was locked into a headspace that I couldn't get out of."

He stared up at the ceiling.

"I thought that if I could just drive, if I could just get the control and the certainty that I'd always had on the track, back, then everything would be fine," Damon said. "I thought I could outrun the demons. Turns out I ran right into worse ones."

Elena heard what he said and also what he didn't say. Her hand found its way back to that spot on his chest, just over his heart.

"You haven't stopped running yet, have you?" she asked.

Damon looked back over at her.

"You make me want to try," he said softly. "But no, I haven't stopped running yet."

"We have time," Elena reminded him. "This doesn't have to be a thing until you're ready, until we both are."

"And you're okay with that?" Damon asked.

"I'm okay with you," Elena said.

It shouldn't have been the perfect answer but somehow, it was.


End file.
